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<title>I tell you something I think you'll understand (when I say that something - I wanna hold your hand) by Waistcoat35</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25926595">I tell you something I think you'll understand (when I say that something - I wanna hold your hand)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35'>Waistcoat35</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Downton Abbey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Grumpy Thomas, M/M, Thomas' Blighty, accuracy and grammar pickers do not interact I'm tired from a full school year and I WILL bite you, after I used them to trip him down the stairs, anyway, hand-holding, if you don't get the beatles reference I'm telling my mother and she'll be disappointed in you, if you get that reference you can have a couple shoelaces I stole from the president, jules verne experiments, so I just wanted to get it done so I could keep proceeding in order, surprise! I aten't dead!, teen for swears and hand injury I guess, this is SO crappy but I've lost steam for this one because I left it too long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:28:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25926595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'Can I hold your hand?'</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I tell you something I think you'll understand (when I say that something - I wanna hold your hand)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yay! I'm alive and this sucks but have it anyway! Dedicated to Ida and Marchwell for putting up with my bullshit as always, and also dedicated to Infinity2020 and AbAbsurdo for being lovely to me!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'Can I hold your hand?'</p><p>The question surprises Richard as much as it seems to surprise Thomas - silly, considering Richard is the one who's asked it. It is a few hours since Thomas arrived, and they've both made themselves thoroughly comfortable. A fire crackles in the grate, the glow settling atop them both like a blanket, which they've gone without despite the month. After two months with more than two hundred miles between then, they can hardly stand to be separated even by the few millimetres of distance that a shirt places between a hand and a shoulderblade, let alone a blanket. Thomas is tired - he's always tired after the train journeys, especially because he barely sleeps the night before he sees Richard again after a while - Richard's never sure if it's from excitement or because he works himself up. Probably both, the silly boy.</p><p>Either way, he is tired, has been since they came in, and he's draped across Richard's lap with his arms limply cast around Richard's waist, torso and face snuggled into Richard's lap and stomach. His legs are drawn up close like he's trying to curl into some semblance of a ball, and it's a mixture of endearing and ache-inducing. Thomas always seems to be cold in the winter, always seems to curl up small, and it makes Richard all the more glad to hold him. One hand is at the back of Thomas' head, cupping the base of his skull, while the other rests between his shoulderblades, as if he can let Thomas soak up his body heat that way. That is what makes him ask, perhaps. He knows Thomas' hands get cold, too, and one of them in particular aches when it does. Thomas shuffles one hand from around Richard's waist - the right one - and pats around for Richard's arm until Richard shakes his head (and then remembers Thomas can't see it.) 'Mm-mm. The left one, love.'</p><p>Thomas does not seem to have picked up on his good intentions, however, as his brow is scrunched - at least, what he can see of it, as Thomas has made only a minimal effort to change positions after the question, though he has tensed. 'Why in the bloody hell would you want to do that?' He asks, and sounds almost offended, chastising - as though Richard is a child who has just declared that he desires to eat a pound of topsoil, rather than Thomas' fully grown partner who would like to hold his hand. </p><p>'I'd like to,' Richard says, feeling a little silly now due to the vehemence of Thomas' protest, but not quite willing to give up - Thomas has been off in his own head the whole time, and any disbelief is not really to do with Richard, most likely. 'That's not such a bizarre idea, surely?'</p><p>The little frown is endearing, he must admit, as Thomas tucks his face back into Richard's stomach. 'Is,' he mumbles.</p><p>'And why would that be, my darling?' The hand cupping the base of Thomas' skull begins to rub across his hair, back and forth, soothingly - or perhaps encouragingly. It must work, to a degree - he feels Thomas' right arm wrap around him again, and the left come out until Thomas' injured hand rests almost timidly on Richard's thigh.</p><p>'Looks like a bloody - Jules Verne experiment, or somethin'.' Richard can't help but give a short exhale, softly amused, as he takes the hand, glove still on, and runs his thumb carefully in circles.</p><p>'Well, well, then. Isn't it lucky that I happen to be awfully fond of Jules Verne?'</p><p>'Not even that fussed about 'im,' Thomas grumbles. 'You only read him because <em>I </em>like him.'</p><p>'Reminds me of you, then. I have to like it, because anything to do with you is worth liking.'</p><p>Thomas knows they're not talking about Jules bloody Verne anymore, and continues to burrow nose-first into Richard's stomach. Richard doesn't deprive him of a hiding place. Only begins to stroke the thin skin between each finger as he goes, knowing that even if it is hidden from him a blush is forming on Thomas' face. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, the line about Thomas' hand looking like 'a Jules Verne experiment' is stolen from canon. It made me kinda sad but at the same time it was a bit funny - I love Thomas' little turns of phrase.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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